January 16, 2009
I have new neighbors
Originally published November 26, 2003
A soap-opera situation developed in the house next door to mine about a month ago and hubby and wife moved out in the grand finale, complete with the County Police involved. The guy was a complete, motorcycle-riding, wife-beating, red-necked prick, as far as I could tell, but he had a really good-looking woman. She had a set of legs and a candy-apple ass that made me gasp every time I saw her outside. I don't miss him, but I hated to see her go. She really enhanced the scenery around here.
Today, I went outside with my loving dog in my wake, to throw an empty case box of Old Milwaukee beer, an empty box of Franzia white zinfandel wine and an empty bottle of Smirnoff's lime-flavored vodka in my trash can. That's how I met my new neighbors. What a great first impression.
I started to say, "My name is Rob, and I'm an alcoholic. Welcome to the neighborhood."
I wanted to run back in my house and come out with some trash that wasn't alcohol-related, and I did, right after I met the entire family as they ate BLT sandwiches on the tailgate of a pickup truck in the driveway. They were waiting for the electric company to restore juice to the house so that they could clean it up. They said it was a mess inside. I said, "You ought to see MY house."
They seem like nice people and Oddball took up with the kids right away. The grandfather asked me about the property line and I showed him the stakes. "Who's been cutting the grass?" he asked.
"Me," I replied. "I get on a roll sometimes. I cut my grass and just keep on going." Actually, I did it to keep snakes away.
Anyway, I called Oddball and she came to me like the good dog she is. We went back inside the Crackerbox and camped out for a while. I don't have any more liquor bottles, wine boxes or empty cases of beer to throw in the trash can.
I suppose that I'll have to buy some more today.
All content © Rob Smith